A Woman's Best Friends
by M.A. Cunningham
Summary: A woman needs allies. Especially after waking up 200 years into the future where everything once known to her has been wiped out. Lucy travels the Commonwealth in search of her son, in search of her husband's killer, in search of some remnant to her past. Along the way, Sarah will meet many people; some will become friends, some lovers, some enemies. Many even dead. (M for safety)
1. A Valentine Massacre

Pain was all that was. It's all that was there for him. With each punch, Valentine chipped away. He was being broken, physically and mentally. With each punch, more of his synthetic body flew away to different places in the room. With each punch, he grew tired. It was not that the pain was intolerable - it wasn't so bad actually - it was the two weeks of endless torture and turmoil that made him desperate. He was sure his secretary, Ellie, suspected he was gone, but she couldn't get to him. Not unless she too wanted to be captured. Nick knew worse would come to her if she had been.

All he wanted to do was help someone, help a family. He dug into a missing girl's history, tracing her steps, to bring her home. Turns out some people don't want to be found. Darla hadn't been kidnapped, she left on her own. His time, he felt, was up. Skinny Malone may not have wanted him dead outright, but he was certainly getting there. Nick mused on the years he had spent as detective. His only thought at the moment: I wish I found out who that mysterious stranger is.

Hours passed and the beatings finally came to an end. The Triggermen beating him left the room he was in, the vault's overseer's office, and locked it behind them. He was free to roam around, but there was nothing he could do. The men had stripped the entire room of anything not bolted down, leaving Nick a single chair, of which he was strapped to whenever they came to hurt him more. He sat at the Overseer's desk, looking at the walls of the dilapidated Vault, and waited for them to come back. One, alone, eventually came. He looked through the window of the office, from the side of the vault's atrium, and mocked Nick. Threatening him. "Wait, 'till we all come back. Your head is gonna be my new toaster!"

Nick pleaded with him to be set free. "Malone will snub you out when you're no use for him! Let me free!" The man sneered and continued to taunt him, ignoring his plea. Nick turned around to walk away and noticed the room was slightly darker than before. He heard what sounded like a nail hitting the floor, and the metal walkway outside the door shake. He turned back around to the window and saw it caked with thick, red blood. He tried to look through the clean gaps in the window to see what had happened but couldn't see a thing.

The door began to open and he prepared himself for his confrontation. A woman carrying a scoped hunting rifle entered the room, analyzing the room for hidden enemies through her aviators.

"I like the irony in this reversed damsel-in-distress situation," he told her.

"The dragon is still guarding his prize," she quipped. "We're not out of the castle yet."

Nick volunteered to lead her out of the Vault, picking up the submachine gun of his fallen captor. Along the way, he filled her in on what had happened that lead to his capture. She didn't seem to react to his synth status, maybe out of trust, indifference, or naivety. He couldn't tell. He analyzed her. How could a lone woman infiltrate a Vault full of Triggermen, get him out, and live? She wore only her sunglasses, some shoes, shorts, and a harness, with a backpack on her back. She hadn't even worn a shirt or armor under the harness either. Instead, she used it to cover and hold up her breasts! She was not bleeding, cut, or injured in any way. There was no dirt, grime, not even a drop of blood on her fair skin. A single bullet could kill her. Radiation would pass through unrestricted. Poison could enter her bloodstream without resistance. She was fragile, vulnerable. Yet here she was, living. What got his attention was a tan, wrist-mounted electronic. A Pip-Boy. Nick was impressed and intrigued. _A Vault dweller?_

They descended the stairs to the lower level of the atrium and were met by three Triggermen. Nick wanted to see what the woman was capable of. "I'll follow your lead," he told her. She nodded and crouched down, readying her rifle. Nick watched as she sneakily wormed her way around the atrium and silently picked off a Triggerman. Unfortunately, the man she shot died loudly, gagging and groaning as he fell with a hole in his chest. The other two were alerted and found their attacker quickly. They shot at her but she took cover behind a stack of boxes. Nick quickly intervened and shot the other man, garnering the attention of the last.

Nick took cover around one of the vault's many sliding doors, peeking out to shoot when given the chance. When he peered around, he saw the final man fall sideways, a bullet through his neck. The girl raised her glasses and rested them on her pony-tailed hair. She gave a small smirk and they continued. "You're not too bad," he told her.

"I'm still new at the whole rifle thing."

The two continued onwards. Nick started to pick up the pace, jogging through the vault's corridors. "Let's go," he told her. "Skinny Malone is waiting for us somewhere and I'd rather not stay long enough for his goons to catch us instead." They ran back where the girl came in from. Nick saw her handiwork. Neat. Calculated. Messy. They turned the corner from a door and Nick met a baseball bat. The Triggerman clobbered Nick in the head, knocking him dead in his tracks. The woman had her rifle knocked out from her hands before she could line her sighs on the man and was almost clubbed herself, but she quickly took out a pistol and shot the man thrice in the chest.

The girl picked up her rifle and shot the downed enemy again, once in the head, before holstering her pistol. Now she had blood on her. She helped Nick up and the two continued on their way. They stopped before a closed door.

"I hear heavy footfall behind this door," Nick told her. "That could only mean one thing: Malone is waiting for us." The woman looked confused. _Maybe she doesn't know who he is,_ he thought. They walked through the door and were met by two armed Triggermen, a bigger man wearing a black suit (also armed), and a thin woman beside him wearing a sequin dress.

"Just shoot them, Skinny! Shoot them!" The woman had shouted to the bigger man. She shook an aluminum baseball bat, a dent lied on its shaft. Nick was uneasy at the sight of it.

"Quiet you," the black suited man said. He turned from the woman to the pair in front of him. "You come into my home, kill my men, and make me have to come down myself to see you. You transform this quaint little vault into a blood bath and now you think you can just walk out of here? You crossed a big line, Nick!"

"I wouldn't have come if your girl chose to tell her family where she was. Maybe even write them a letter," Nick replied.

"Sad that you got your ass beat by a girl, Nicky?" The dressed girl rubbed her bat, giving it a small swing as she looked at Nick with anger. "Boo-fucking-hoo!"

Skinny Malone sighed. "It's a shame you had to ruin the good thing we had here, Nick."

Nick was going to speak but the girl interrupted. "I told you! I told you we should have killed him! But no, you had to keep him alive for 'old times' sake'!"

"Darla!" Malone yelled. "I'm handling this my way!"

"Oh yeah?" she asked. "Then why is this little bitch with him? Look at her, the little slut! She comes in wearing practically nothing!" The woman looked at Darla with a snarl formed.

Malone slapped Darla with his backhand. "I'm telling you one last time, quiet!"

"Are you going to let him treat you that way, Darla?" the woman beside Nick asked. "Just listen to yourself. You're stronger than him. He's holding you back." Darla perked up. "You know this won't end peacefully. Make sure you're the one lands on top, and maybe, I'll let you live to see another day."

"You shut it! Nick, tell your broad to shut it," Malone yelled. Darla looked at Malone, contemplating the woman's words.

"Sorry, Skinny," Darla began. "The slut's got a point." Malone barely realized what she was saying before Darla swung the bat into his head. He quickly collapsed and she got another swing into him before she was peppered with bullets from Malone's men. They quickly turned their guns to the escapees but were quickly dispatched by the woman's quick pistol.

Nick looked at the woman beside him. "Why'd you do that? Everyone's dead! Darla's dead too!"

The woman went up to the body of Malone, a body struggling for breath. "I made a connection, Nick. Darla is the one who burned one of my settlements. Oberland Station had caught fire and a few of the stations burned downed because of it. It took weeks for all the rubble to be cleared and reused." Nick crossed his arms in disbelief. "A good handful of my settlers managed to kill a few of the attackers: Triggermen. I read the case you were following. The couple that hired you, Darla's parents, lived in Oberland Station. They were the first to be murdered." Nick's defense lowered. "It is no coincidence."

Nick hadn't been able to know. "At least now we can get out of here," Nick said. He felt a tinge of remorse as he stepped around Darla's bullet-ridden body. Her eyes had stayed open. They looked at him.

The woman waved a finger and held down Malone's head with her shoe. She chambered a bullet into her pistol and shot the dying man in the head, getting blood on her body and the little clothes she wore. "After I change, _then_ we'll be done. I'll meet you outside." She went into a different room and closed the door.

Nick had waited outside of Park Street station, looking at the moon. It was a sight he missed. It illuminated the night, allowing him to see the towering buildings in all their glory. Soon they'd fall. One by one. Old and decrepit. "Ready?" the girl asked. She had come out wearing boots and a dirty white button-up shirt, a black band around the shirt's collar. A plate of combat armor was on top of this, a white single star painted center of the chest. On top of this was a long blue coat with a leather sash across her body. It had a little speaker on it.

"Yes," Nick said. "Before we set out, I wanted to say thank you for saving me."

"Don't. Help me find someone and we'll be even," she said.

"Straight to the point, I like it. Let's go to my office in Diamond City and talk there. I'd rather not be out where any more Triggermen - or worse - can find us."

The woman took out a flare from her pack and lit it, holding it up. Nick was puzzled as to what she was doing and then he heard it. A low buzzing came from the sky, growing louder with each passing moment. Soon, a blue vertibird was overhead. Its passengers let down a long rope ladder and the the woman took hold. "I'll see you there, then." The vertibird flew into the sky as the woman climbed the ladder.

 _So you're the new general_ , he thought. Nick began walking, thinking about how interesting this person was becoming with each moment.


	2. The Interview

The days were becoming cooler, as fall made way to winter, and a winter in Post-War Boston was always made a bit more dangerous due to the many colds and diseases people caught. The day in particular, however, wasn't too hot nor cold. It was closer to fresh, and Piper had no regrets for choosing her signature red trench coat for her interview.

She felt nervous, and could feel herself breathe shallowly the more she thought about the story she would write. She downed a shot of whiskey, something she normally didn't do. Given the occasion, and her restless nerves, her mind made the decision to try to calm itself down.

After what felt so long a wait, she fixated on the noise of a pen quickly tapping a table. The quick tapping of the plastic bore into her mind, tapping its plastic shell on her subconscious, until that's all she could hear. She quickly snapped around to tell whoever was driving her mad to stop it, but she soon realized it was she who was tapping her pen on the table. She ordered another shot of whiskey.

At long last, she walked into the bar. A fare woman with a caramel bun bouncing on her head drew the attention of all the dirty and grimy patrons, giving her analyses about who she was, where she came from, and why she looked different than everyone else.

Some noticed that it was her blue and yellow Vault suit, clean as the day she got it, that stood out against a sea of brown and raggedy outfits that've been recycled for generations. Others noticed her curvy, slender figure, her clean skin, and some only looked at her assets as she walked past them. She sat down in front of Piper and sighed.

"Hi," Piper greeted, "I'm Piper Wright. I'm the founder, owner, writer, editor and publisher for _Publick Occurences._ Maybe you've read it? I'm, essentially, the paper in the flesh." Piper chuckled, but the woman only raised a brow at how Piper had spelled her paper's name on a sheet. "You've already met my sister, Nat. She was the one who set this up."

"She's a cute kid," the woman said.

Piper gave a small chuckle and agreed. "She's a great kid, and is nothing but a huge help with the paper. Anyways, it's not very often that the Commonwealth finds someone from a Vault. I wanted to ask you a few questions about life in the Vault, if you didn't mind." The woman looked at Piper, before her gaze fell to the rotting table. Piper didn't know what that meant, but she needed the story. "I think we should get your name, and age to start," she chuckled.

The woman gave a small laugh in return. "My name is Lucy Turner. Accounting for the war, I'm about 234 years old."

Piper's eyes widened. "You're from _before_ the war?" Lucy nodded her head. "Wow! That's incredible. I don't think we've ever had someone so old come to Diamond City that wasn't a ghoul. What'd they do to make you live so long? How was it that you were able to live in a Vault? Terminals and holodisks I've read about the matter usually talked about how friends or family were chosen, but nothing about the specifics."

The woman's eyes looked at Piper and slowly looked away. After a moment, she began, "We were frozen in these, uh, pods. We sort of went to sleep for a long time until recently. My, uh, my husband was in the military when he was younger. He served in the Sino-American war for a few years, but he retired to be with me. I guess that's what made us eligible to be in the Vault."

"That's so interesting! He was a soldier in the war! Do you think you could bring him in too? Do you know where he is?"

Lucy's lips trembled. "He's - he's dead."

"Oh," Piper said. Her mind raced to think of a different question, but she couldn't just avoid it. "How did he die?"

"He was killed in the Vault. Someone came in, and - and shot him." Tears began their descent on her cheeks. "They took my baby - our baby!"

"I'm so sorry," Piper told her. She reached her hand out and grabbed Lucy's. "We don't have to continue this if it's too much for you," she said, but she very much that didn't happen. For all anyone knew, it was the Institute that took her baby and killed her husband. It wouldn't be too far-fetched.

"No, it's okay," Lucy said, wiping her face with her hand.

Piper slunked back into her seat and scribbled more notes. "Are you out here to find your baby?" Lucy nodded.

"I want my baby back. I want to find the man who took him, and kill him." Lucy started to cry again, trying to hold in her emotions.

"Don't - don't cry, Blue," she pleaded. "It'll be alright."

Lucy stopped crying for a moment. "Blue? Why'd you call me Blue?"

"Blue, because of your suit, and because you're blue, you know, like sad."

Lucy chuckled a bit and wiped her face once more. "I've been told a man named Nick Valentine could help me," she said. "That's why I'm here in Diamond City."

"Well you're in luck," Piper said. "He's here in Diamond City, and has an office behind Commonwealth Weaponry. Just go around the corner and follow the neon sign. Can't miss it."

A small smile cracked through the stone-faced woman. "Thank you," she said. She started to get up to leave, but Piper interrupted.

"Blue, one more word," she requested. "There's been a lot of kidnappings and disappearances in the Commonwealth lately. There's people out there in the same situation as you. What would you tell others who're also looking for their loved ones?"

A faint echo of sadness swept over Lucy. Whether it was from Piper's comment, her wandering thoughts, or some other realization, Piper couldn't tell. "I'd tell them...I'd tell them to not give up. Stay hopeful. Stay strong. I've been at this for two weeks and I won't be stopping any time soon."

Piper scribbled down Lucy's statement, and ordered two shots: one for herself and one for her confident and hopeful companion.

Lucy expressed that drinking wasn't something she did often, if at all, save for special occasions. Piper agreed and told her the same thing. Raising her glass, she said, "To our loved ones, whoever they may be and wherever they are."

"To your paper," Lucy cheered.

They clanked their glasses together and downed the shots.

"Stick around, Blue," Piper told her. "My - I mean _our_ story will go up tomorrow. You should read it." Lucy smiled at Piper, who smiled back, and gave a small laugh as she thanked the reporter before leaving the bar.

Piper kept smiling at Lucy, despite her leaving. She felt warm, and even a bit flushed. _It must be the alcohol_. A tinge of pity flashed through her mind as she read her notes about a widow's missing child. A widow who has never known the world as it is now. _Poor woman,_ she thought. _I hope you find what you're looking for._

Lucy followed Piper's instructions and passed Commonwealth Weaponry, where Arturo was having a shouting match with a man clad in a baseball uniform whose shop right next door.

"Swatters! Buy your swatters here!" cried the sport-dressed man. "Don't be left defenseless, buy a swatter!"

"You know what a swatter doesn't protect against?" cried Arturo. "Guns! And I have lots of 'em, folks!"

Lucy walked past the both of them and saw the neon sign Piper spoke of. Following the direction the sign pointed towards lead to another sign, this time pointing towards what seemed like a narrow hall. _Valentine Detective Agency_ , the sign said. After going inside, she was overwhelmed with a large number of filing cabinets. Some were so full of files and paper that they didn't close properly, if at all. A woman came up to Lucy, stress evident upon her forehead alone.

"Hi," the woman started. "My name is Ellie. Mr. Valentine isn't in right now."

A bit of worry creeped up on Lucy, but she stood calm. "Do you know when he's supposed to come back? I really need to speak with him."

Ellie shook her head. "I don't know when he'll be back." She sighed, burying her face in a hand. "He was investigating - it doesn't matter." She turned to walk away but Lucy didn't let her.

"What was he investigating? Maybe I could help."

Ellie scoffed after looking at her Vault suit. "No offense, but you don't look like you'd last very long where Nick is."

Lucy put her hand on her hip and squinted at Ellie. "I'm more of what you'd call a spring trap. You don't really notice me until I'm halfway done killing you."

A laugh emanated from Ellie. "If you really want to help, get Nick back from Skinny Malone and his Triggermen." Her voice grew softer. "He was investigating a runaway girl, and I guess she was taken by Malone's gang by the time Nicky found her. They captured him and have had him hostage in Vault 114 for a while now."

"Say no more," Lucy said. "I'll have him back here safely. We can discuss my rescue fee later," she joked.

As Lucy left the detective's office, and made her way to exit Diamond City, Arturo called her over.

"You look like don't have much in the way of help, save for that pistol there." He brought out what he called an outfit. "This harness right here? Great piece of equipment. Light, durable, able to handle all kinds of weight." He pulled on the individual straps to show its rigidity. "It'll help you in carrying heavy objects, like rifles, launchers, ammo, hell, maybe even people!"

Lucy analyzed the "outfit." It was nothing more than a pair of shorts, shoes and a few straps. "Is that it? No leather, metal or anything to protect you?"

"That's it, little lady. It's small enough so you can wear armor pieces on top of it while also holding them in place. Buy some armor, try it out!"

Lucy pondered the fantastic offer she received. It definitely was light. An idea had developed in her mind. "How much?"

"For you, I'll make you a great deal: fifty caps." While Lucy hadn't spent much time on the outside, she knew when she was being robbed.

"Artie, come on." She leaned over the counter Arturo stood behind. "We both know that that piece of stitching and cloth isn't worth fifty caps."

"Alright," Arturo said. "I'll give it away for twenty-five." It was still too much; Arturo thought she was a fool.

Lucy unzipped her suit just above her breasts and put her right hand across the inside of the suit. "Art, you're breaking my heart over here." Arturo's eyes struggled to stay level, but she saw their weakness, how they shook and strained to not look down. She had him. "Can't you go… lower?" She pulled the zipper down more, slowly, until the top of her breasts were visible.

Arturo wiped his forehead and the area around his mouth. "I - I guess I can go a tit - _tad_ lower for you," he stammered. Lucy kept her gaze on Arturo, smiling slyly. He turned a bright red by then. "F-five caps f-fine with you?" Her wicked smile showed her teeth and she agreed. From where her right hand had been buried in her suit, she took out a silver locket that had been wrapped around her neck.

"Here you go, Artie. Keep the change." She winked at him as she pulled up the zipper on her suit, taking the harness with her.

 _Too easy_ , she thought. She remembered when it was just judges, juries, and the occasional witness she'd have to "convince" to get her way. No matter, she had what she wanted. Outside Diamond City, Preston Garvey was waiting for her, drinking a Nuka-Cola by the statue in front of the Great Green Jewel's entrance.

"Everything go okay?" he asked.

"No," she said. "Do you know where Vault 114 is?" They walked away from the city, towards the outskirts.

Preston scratched his head, nearly tipping over his tricorn hat, "Well, uh, I do. Heard reports that it isn't the safest place to be in right now, or even the safest place to get to." He eyed the harness she was carrying. "What's the harness for?"

"I don't know," she said. "I was thinking of becoming a model." Preston let out a small laugh. "Let's go. Valentine is imprisoned in the Vault, and I'd rather not arrive to see a dead detective." They soon arrived to a dingy Vertibird, with two men around it playing cards. They quickly got up at the sight of Lucy and Preston. The two men saluted the pair and hopped into the vertibird, taking their seats as the pilots.

After giving the pilots a direction, the bird started its motors and took the sky.

After a quick flight, they settled down at Park Street station. The pilots told Lucy that the Vault was only accessible by going through the station. She thanked the pilots and looked to Preston.

"I'm going in alone," she told him.

A frown forced its way out of Preston. "You sure, boss? I could go with you, if you want."

"I have a plan, Preston. We're still thick in the city, so go back to Sanctuary. Come back in about an hour and wait somewhere nearby. If I don't come out after two, consider me a goner."

Preston gave Lucy a flare. "Pop this once you come out and we'll head on over to you. Here's your uniform too, in case you need it. Good luck, ma'am."

Lucy hopped off the vertibird and watched as it took off back north. She descended the stairs of the station and quickly changed into the harness. It was tight around her chest and shoulders, but she felt much more free. She ascended the steps, irritated that her breasts jiggled with every step, and hid her vault suit and her general uniform in a trashcan. Her 10mm pistol was strapped to her lower back, held by her harness.

She opened the doors to the station and walked inside, a mix of fear and nervousness surrounding her. By the time she reached the bottom of the steps, she saw her first three Triggermen, two men and a male ghoul. She took a deep breath and walked forward, calling for their attention. The men whistled and cheered at the scantily clad woman that walked before them.

"You seem awfully lost, sweetie," said one man.

"Don't you worry," said another, "I'll take good care of you. Forget these guys."

"No way, no how," Lucy said. "I'm here for one man and one man only: Skinny Malone. I was hoping I could find a good time in his arms," she said. "Maybe even a little bit of work, if he enjoys me that much."

"Well, seems like it's his loss," said the ghoul, flashing an ugly grin that raised what was left of his cheek muscles. Lucy was puzzled by his comment before reality set in. They had surrounded her, and began closing in. One man stood between her and the exit, submachine gun in hand. She gulped and frantically searched for an opening she could take.

"How come?" she asked.

"The boss already has a flame, Darla," the Triggerman said. "But don't you worry, that makes you available for us now, don't it?" The man reached an arm out to grab her face, but Lucy grabbed it and used him as a shield, her forearm digging into his neck as she kicked his feet out from under him.

She used her free hand to grab her pistol and quickly shot the other two men before they could open fire with their tommy guns. She turned her hostage around and pointed her weapon at him. "Where's Nick Valentine?"

The gangster fumbled his words. "I - I - I think he's by the Overseer's Office, I'm not sure. I don't get told much!" The man cowered, rolling himself into a ball after Lucy let go of him.

The man felt a shoe hold his head down and realization hit him the same time a bullet did.

She began to loot their bodies when she heard commotion heading her way from the stairs leading to the subway's tunnels. She looked at the exit, and thought of running out to get her armor, but the Triggermen arrived too quickly for her to ascend the stairs safely. Jumping over a counter for cover, Lucy returned fire.

The heavy barrage of gunfire from the was deafening, and was tearing the counter apart. Time was almost up. She spied a baseball beside her and rubbed dirt all over it as quickly as she could, turning the dull white color into a faint black. _Let's hope this works._ With a single swing, she tossed the baseball over her head to the Triggermen.

"Grenade!" they shouted. They stopped firing, running for cover. The opening prompted Lucy to get up and shoot two exposed Triggermen dead. Their lack of armor, choosing instead to wear suits for their signature look, made it easy for Lucy's pistol rounds to tear them up. The remaining Triggerman recovered quickly, and continued his assault on Lucy, but he quickly ran out of ammo for his weapon.

He attempted to reach for his dead companion's gun, but Lucy shot his hand as he picked it up. Clutching his bleeding hand, he looked at the woman whose gun was pointed at his head, and fell as his brain was painted on the wall behind him.

Lucy fell back against the counter, exhausted, adrenaline coursing through her. She felt sick, and her beating heart made no consolation as it tried to break through her chest. It hasn't been very long since she's been out in the wasteland, but she felt more vulnerable in that fight than she ever had. She wished she had found more cores for her power armor. Vulnerability didn't exist inside a walking tank.

After a few minutes, Lucy got up and explored the room she was in. There were some caps strewn about, a few stacks of pre-war money in the registers, and even some electronic scrap she could use for a few projects. What caught her eye, however, was a locked storeroom. She looked around for a key, and smiled when she couldn't find one. She kneeled down in front of the door after finding a screwdriver, and took out a bobby pin from her hair. Within seconds, the door was open. _I should really carry a screwdriver around_ , she thought. She tossed the tool and began looting the storeroom, leaving with a scoped and silenced hunting rifle and its accompanying ammunition.

 _I wonder who put you here._ Lucy put away her pistol and held the rifle in both her hands, feeling the tremendous weight in her arms. She descended deeper down into the subway and peered through the scope into the tunnel ahead. A Triggerman was urinating against a wall by himself. When the man finished and zipped up his fly, his body fell forward against the wall he relieved himself on and his head bore only half his face.

 _Don't worry Nicky, I'm coming_.


	3. The Mistake of Arrogance

It was early morning when Preston Garvey entered the general's home, or what had remained of it. She was already awake, however, sitting on the dirty, rotting couch that held the last special moment she had with her husband, before the Great War. Before he died. All she did was stare at the television set despite its cracked screen, a blanket cocooning her. The nights were cold until the mid-morning, and until Sturges got the gaps in all the houses fixed up, it was thick layers and warm blankets for everyone.

"General," called Preston. The woman lazily looked in his direction, acknowledged his presence, and took a sip of beer she had under her blanket. "General, could I have a word with you? It's about the Minutemen."

The woman gave a small scoff. "What?" she asked. "Need me to go marching to another settlement? More recon? Or did you want me to find another missing person." She took another gulp of her beer. "I'm not in the mood."

Preston set his musket down and took a chair in front of her. "General, I think we're ready to expand the Minutemen another step. No, a leap." She didn't say anything. She stared straight, another drink. "I got into contact with an old friend, Ronnie. With her help, I think we can take back the Castle."

Lucy took another sip of her beer and tossed the bottle along with the others. "Why should we care about a Castle?" she finally asked.

Preston explained that it was the Minutemen's old headquarters, and that it was overrun by mirelurks decades ago, driving the Minutemen out of the base. "If we take it back, it'll cement our hold here in the Commonwealth and show the people that we are back and here to stay. With more support from the settlers in the wasteland, we can take on more recruits, expand our territory, be a real figure of hope in the Commonwealth.."

There was no word, nor action, taken by Lucy. The only response she had for quite some time was silence. Thought did not appear on her face and Preston wondered if she was really listening.

Lucy sighed and swiped her cover off, revealing the blue Vault jumpsuit she had on. She put her shoes on, grabbed her colonial coat, her tricorn hat, and her pistol from the kitchen counter and followed Preston. He informed Lucy that he already had several Minutemen from their allied settlements ready to meet them at the Castle. They approached the Vertibird that they fixed up weeks prior, once a derelict wreck on top of a museum. A pair of Minutemen sitting by the vehicle got up as they approached and took their seats in the cockpit. Within seconds of Lucy and Preston boarding, the bird was in the air.

The view of the Commonwealth was always breathtaking to Lucy. The hues of the wasteland bordering the colors of the city, which reached up and touched the blue sky, was one of the few things that Lucy thought was good about waking up in a destroyed world. Some hope in a desolate land.

Soon, the band had reached their destination: a small diner down the road from the Castle. The windows of the restaurant were all blown out, the doors just barely hanging on to their hinges, and the paint already peeled. Dust, dirt, and the leftover remains of kitchen supplies littered the diner, a small reminder that it was once a functioning establishment. Lucy looked down the road at the looming remains of the Castle. She recognized the old building from when her and Nate would walk down the beach together. Fort Independence. It once was respected and feared, protecting Boston's harbor since the 18th century. Now, its large walls have collapsed and the fort was left abandoned.

Inside the diner, they met an older woman with short, whitened hair and the hard eyes of a soldier. Her military fatigues, stance, and salutation screamed a life of regulation, order, and honor. Her stone face, however, cracked slightly at the sight of Preston.

"Preston Garvey," she said. "My, my. It's been a long time."

Preston shook her hand. "Nice to see you too, Ronnie. This is Lucy, General of the Minutemen."

Ronnie looked at Lucy from top to bottom, bottom to top, front and back, and side to side, a weary eye sweeping over the Sole Survivor. "Huh," she let out. "I've seen more threatening children."

"I've seen prettier ghouls," Lucy retorted. Ronnie nodded her head slightly, looking at Preston.

"She's got a mouth on her," she mumbled.

The trio, while waiting for the rest of the MInutemen to show up, discussed how they were going to retake the Castle. Preston advised that they surround the fort and kill the mirelurks as they all move in. Ronnie thought a direct, frontal assault was best, where the Minutemen create a wall of gunfire, letting the mirelurks charge to their deaths. Lucy suggested her own plan: Preston could board the Vertibird and rain covering fire from the air; Minutemen can surround the Castle and push the mirelurks to the front of the fort where they'd be greeted by Ronnie's line of fire.

"It might work," Ronnie said.

"It will," said Lucy. "No doubt about it."

"Mirelurks," Ronnie began, "don't normally run away from a fight. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they charge at you. That push you plan on doing will just get our men killed."

"She's got a point, General," Preston said. "We can't afford to lose men here. Those shells of theirs are tough to punch through."

"This'll work. The minigun will tear through their shells and they'll be vulnerable. Any creature, when overpowered, will try to run to survive. They just won't be able to run anywhere."

They argued about it for some time, until Ronnie grew frustrated at Lucy's stubbornness. She walked away, going outside to cool down, while Lucy began convincing everyone to see her way. Once the rest of the Minutemen arrived, fifteen men and women, not counting the pilots and the trio, Lucy informed them all of the plan. Ronnie took out a duffel bag of supplies that she had brought, laying ammo, grenades, mines, stimpaks, and a few weapons onto the diner counter.

Preston pulled Lucy to the side, asking her if she was sure the plan wasn't a risk. She reassured him, telling him that the strategy was used commonly before the war. He shook his head but conceded. When they rejoined the others, Lucy saw some Minutemen, kids - no older than when she first met her husband - sitting at booths in total silence. Some gulped down water as if it were there last drop. She was sure it'd work. With her and Preston, there were 18 good soldiers going in that fort with her.

Some of the men and women in front of her were volunteers from allied settlements, only knowing the ways of the land than of combat. There were a few, like Ronnie, that knew their way around a gun. She hoped that'd be enough. 8 men, Ronnie among them, waiting in the front of the fort; a team of 5 on each side that would converge within the Castle, leading the mirelurks to the firing squad, with Lucy personally leading one of the teams; Preston would be in a vertibird doing circles around the fort with the minigun, shooting bursts to thin out the horde.

Finally, it was time. Everyone gathered weapons, ammunition, and joined their teams.

Lucy accompanied Preston to the vertibird. "Be safe," she told him. "I can't lead them without you."

Preston tapped the rim of his hat back a bit, smiling. "You should be the careful one, boss. We can't move on without you."

Lucy nodded, and watched as the vertibird took off into the air. Before meeting with Ronnie and the minutemen, she strapped on a plate of combat armor to her chest, donning her coat above it, and strapping a bandolier with ammunition and a few grenades on top. She felt the weight of everything on her. All the metal. All the pressure. She wondered if Nate felt the same thing when he was in the war.

After a few moments, Ronnie came up to her and handed her a combat shotgun. "You're going to need this," she said. "Their shells are tough. I'm not sure your little pistol will be very useful here."

"You'd be surprised," she said. Ronnie handed her the shotgun anyways. It was heavy and awkward for Lucy to hold, but she managed to get a good feel of it, and soon, it felt just as natural to her as holding her pistol. Until it slipped from her grasp and hit the floor. Lucy winced and hoped no one noticed her blunder.

The teams formed then split. Ronnie was waiting with her people, guns pointed at the collapsed wall of the fort where the mirelurks were believed to run through. Lucy led the two teams around carefully around the fort and split off into two. The two teams entered the fort from different doorways behind the Castle and snuck in, watching the mirelurk brood that were inhabiting the fort's square.

With a throw of a grenade, the two teams steadily marched forward, gunning down the mutated crustaceans, while Preston shot bursts of hellfire. Mirelurk numbers were dwindling quickly. As they closed the distance between themselves and the creatures, claws came out of the ground and maimed some of the men. Mirelurks exploded out from below and attacked the assault teams. Lucy lost balance as a mirelurk erupted directly beneath her, but she quickly shot two shells into it, killing it swiftly. The retreating mirelurks, assessing that they were trapped, charged at their attackers with full force.

A Minuteman helped Lucy up before a claw burst out of his chest, splattering blood all over Lucy. The creature flung the man aside and moved toward the general, but she fired her shotgun into its vulnerable body and put it down quickly. The fort's square was chaos. A few soldiers, in their haste to retreat, passed by egg clutches, which exploded as their hatchlings sensed prey, and consumed a vulnerable soldier.

Preston looked on in horror at the bloodbath. Screams, screeches, and the sound of desperate shooting emanated from the Castle, and he couldn't do anything about it, lest risk killing his own troops. He commanded the pilots to let him down at the top of the fort, where he began sniping off several mirelurks with his musket. Moments after the chaos erupted, Ronnie and her team quickly swept in and slaughtered the remaining creatures with precision and speed, rescuing several men and women. Her team suffered no casualties as they cleared the square.

"What did I tell you!" Ronnie screamed. "I told you your plan would only get men killed!"

"I didn't know mirelurks could hide beneath the soil! I've been out here for only a few weeks!"

Ronnie's face boiled at this. "You're telling me some pink-assed, good-for-nothing outsider was leading this operation the entire time! Some rookie who couldn't think of those following her, let alone hold a damn shotgun?" Ronnie grabbed Lucy by her collar and pulled her close, but Preston got in between them and pushed them away from each other.

"Now is not the time for this. Ronnie," he said. "We have dead. We have wounded. We need to assess our damages and solidify our hold on the fort."

Ronnie took her stone eyes off Lucy and pointed them at Preston. "You let this happen, Preston. All these people hurt and dead are because of you and that useless bitch with her smart ideas."

Lucy yelled back, defending Preston, and herself, from Ronnie's words. The pain the Minutemen soldiers suffered was further deepened by their leaders' bickering; their victory in capturing the fort was small. A woman clutched the hand of her dying, disemboweled compatriot and watched his final breath leave his lungs and the last of his force dwindle from his eyes. Another soldier had bent over and vomited what little food he had in his stomach at the mere smell of all the blood that drenched the fort's courtyard. The vertibird pilots sat still within their cockpit, eyes forward towards Boston. They did not utter a single sound to each other, nor did they share a glance together or at their comrades.

No one heard a sound other than the screams and anger of Lucy, Preston, and Ronnie, for they blanketed the muffled cries of those around them. It wasn't until the ocean roared to life, its waves swishing and swashing in a fervor of rage and vengeance, that the trio stopped their bickering. The sea split open, unleashing a terrible monstrosity unto the fort; its stench reached all in the courtyard - fish, salt, decay. Its guttural roar sent daggers into the backs of those who heard it, a call colder than the ocean itself, perhaps even colder than death.


End file.
